Sick Day
by speshulduck
Summary: liv has the flu, poor baby.


title: sick day  
  
author: duck  
  
rating: pg  
  
summary: liv has the flu, poor baby.  
  
author note: i had writer's block so kukrae told me write a sickfic. and since i had the flu the last time it went around i decided to inflict it on poor liv.  
  
disclaimer: not mine. ever. sadly. [tear]  
  
-----  
  
The chair across from Elliot was empty and after three hour of staring over at it he was getting tired of seeing it neatly pushed against the desk. There was no paper littering the top of the desk except the paper balls he'd tossed in some sort of vain attempt to amuse himself. It wasn't nearly so much fun when there wasn't a partner there to glare at you and tell you to cut it out before she personally ensured you'd never have kids again. He chewed the top of his pen thoughtfully as he contemplated her willingness to follow through on her threats. Yeah, he decided. Olivia might just do that to him if he pissed her off enough.  
  
Of course he had no idea what she'd do right now, since he was partnerless for the day. She just had to catch the latest round of flu and leave him all by his lonesome on a boring Friday. Actually she was probably too tired to do anything to him right now. Heck she was probably curled up in bed with a pillow over her head to shut out any light and praying that anything she had in her stomach would stay down. And given that Liv wasn't in the habit of praying it must be pretty bad.  
  
The end of his pen crunched into slivered bits in his mouth and he withdrew it gingerly before tossing it into the trashcan next to their desks. If Olivia had been there she would have laughed at him like she always did whenever he broke another pen with his tendency to chew mindlessly. His oral fixation she'd once jokingly called it. How Kathy must love that. He grinned as he remembered the heat of embarrassment he'd felt when she'd said that, even as he entertained fantasies of tossing her down and showing her his oral fixation firsthand.  
  
Not that he ever would. Fantasies didn't really mean much unless you followed through to make it reality, and that was something he'd never do. No, he valued his friendship with her too much to ever try something like that. She probably wouldn't be very receptive to it anyway.  
  
He reached for another waiting pen and stuck it in his mouth and chewed vigorously. Maybe tonight he'd find some way to get the kids out of the house and remind Kathy of some of the reasons they'd gotten married in the first place. Mmm, now that could be entertaining.  
  
He hit a couple keys on his computer and forced his mind back to work. If it weren't such a slow day Cragen probably would have teamed him up with someone else and sent him out without his usual partner. As it was there was only one pressing case that demanded their attention and Munch and Fin were perfectly capable of handling it without him. Sure the monotonous task of chasing down backgrounds for them was getting old, but that didn't mean he couldn't do a good job at it. Brought back memories of the good old days when he had been just an underling scrambling around at whatever chore his boss assigned him, treating each as a personal mission from God. How had he been so obnoxiously enthusiastic back then?  
  
Young, idealistic and desperately trying to save the world. For that matter, how had he gotten out of the Marines with that attitude still firmly in place? Instead he'd served many years on the force before he finally learned that there weren't single heroes, just ordinary men and women doing their best in a tough and mostly thankless job.  
  
Speaking of women, he wondered for the nth time that day how Olivia was doing. Hey, he'd gone a couple minutes that time without thinking about her. It was hard to not have her presence when he was accustomed to having it nearly every waking moment. He tapped his fingers lightly on his keyboard, not actually pushing any keys down. It was a restless gesture, he knew, and the thought occurred to him that maybe he should take her some soup or something at lunch. Just to check up on her. Someone in her condition should have someone taking care of her, not trying to fend for themselves when they didn't want to get out of bed at all.  
  
A quick look at his watch revealed that it was almost lunch time. Perhaps he'd pop into Cragen's office and tell him he was going over there to make sure she was doing okay. He'd understand the typical partner's concern.  
  
Before he could reconsider he swiveled his chair and launched himself out and towards the captain's office in the back of the squadroom. He knocked politely on the open door and Cragen looked up at him.  
  
"I'm going to check in on Olivia while I'm at lunch. Maybe take her some soup or something," he said quickly. The edges of Cragen's mouth tugged upward slightly.  
  
"You done with the work Munch and Fin needed?" Elliot nodded and pointed behind him.  
  
"It's all on my desk. I won't be more than an hour and a half." Cragen waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.  
  
"Don't worry about it. Just take the rest of the afternoon. It's slow for now and if we need you we'll give you a call." He wagged a finger at Elliot. "You make sure your partner doesn't die on us or anything."  
  
Elliot snorted at the thought. "I don't think Olivia would stand to die of something so undignified as the flu, Captain, and if I let her she'd probably haunt me. Then I'd really never hear the end of it. I'll deal with the cranky living Olivia over her cranky ghost any day."  
  
-----  
  
Olivia's head felt like it was going to explode with the first knock. It was light and not very insistent, but it echoed around her skull like a gunshot. She shoved the pillow more firmly over her ears and moaned something along the lines of "go away." Or at least she thought that was how it came out. She'd already thrown up the toast she'd eaten at breakfast and she knew that if she tried to answer the door she'd get another vomit-inducing wave of vertigo.  
  
Maybe it was Elliot. Who else could it be, really? He had a key and if he was really adamant about getting in he'd just use it. She hoped to God he wouldn't try to call her first. The phone was right next to her prone form on the couch and if that went off in her ear the ninth circle of Hell would be reserved for whomever was on the other end. She'd really it rather not be her sometimes over-protective partner who was just trying to make sure she was okay.  
  
The second knock though pushed all thoughts of politeness out of her mind and she gargled her frustration in the back of her throat. Just open the damn door, Elliot. Insert key and turn. You're a big boy; I know you can handle it. She curled her feet up together underneath the comforter that she had dragged out of her room. She was still freezing, although a hot flash was probably due any minute. Whatever mutation that created this strain of the flu needed to be eradicated. Now.  
  
The quiet sounds of a key working in the door finally reached her ears and she would have smiled blissfully were she not still in such agony. No more knocking. Thank you Elliot Stabler for not being an idiot.  
  
"Olivia?" His voice spread through the apartment like rushing water to her disoriented sense of hearing and she did her best to mumble to get his attention. She heard his soft footfalls approach the couch and didn't bother to pull her head out from under the pillow to acknowledge him.  
  
The couch sagged somewhere around her middle as he sat down lightly and she could hear faint clanking as he set something down on her coffee table. "Hey," he greeted in a loud whisper. A hand gently stroked at her back over top of the blanket. "How you feeling?"  
  
"Like shid," she said under the pillow. It didn't come out nearly as well as she'd intended because of her stuffed up nose, but he still understood the basic communication.  
  
"I brought you some chicken soup," he offered. Her stomach lurched at the thought of trying to put food in it, but her mind chastised that she needed some kind of nutrition to fight this thing off. She made a move to pull the pillow off, but he reached up to do it for her. She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of the blinding light on her sensitive eyes and felt his hand in her hair the instant the pillow was gone. He was stroking absently with his thumb and oh that felt *nice.*  
  
She groaned in both pain and pleasure as she forced her eyes open to look up at him. His blue eyes were hazy, but the worry was still more than evident in them. It had been too long since anyone had really taken care of her; maybe she should milk this opportunity for all it was worth.  
  
"Do you think you can eat?" She squinted up at him and did her best to push upwards into a sitting position as an answer. His arm snaked around her shoulders to help her up as he made soothing noises in the back of his throat.  
  
"There you go, take it easy." She finally came to rest against his shoulder, her knees buckled up behind his back. She drew in a deep breath and steadied herself against him, safe in the protective circle of his arms. "Easy, we've got all afternoon," he whispered against her forehead.  
  
"Cragen gave you off, eh?" she croaked. Typical.  
  
"Yep," he confirmed as he moved her carefully so she was propped upright against the armrest. Her hand drifted up to cover her eyes as he refocused his attentions on the brown paper bag that sat on the table in front of him. She watched his movements through the cracks of her fingers, eyes mostly shielded from the harsh light. He quickly popped off the top and released a load of steam from a plastic container. Even through her stuffed up nose she could smell the chicken. It was almost appetizing.  
  
He fished a spoon out of the bag after setting down the top and twisted back to face her. "Hey, Liv, do you need me to feed it to you?" His tone was mildly teasing, but she had no doubt he'd do it if she asked him to.  
  
She let her hand slip away from her eyes and resisted the urge to groan again in the light. She managed to grasp the container firmly enough to hold it and pulled it closer. He passed her the spoon and sat back, obviously making sure she wasn't having any trouble eating. She took a tentative mouthful of the broth into her mouth and savored the scalding feel of the liquid against her tongue before swallowing. After a few more mouthfuls Elliot turned back to the coffee table and withdrew his own sandwich from the bag. He settled back against the couch and bit into it hungrily.  
  
They ate in companionable silence for a while until Olivia finally asked him about work. They discussed the case Munch and Fin were out on until he'd finished off the last of his sandwich and offered to take the rest of her soup and put it in the refrigerator. She hadn't touched it for the last few minutes so she handed it to him. Curling up deeper into her blanket, she watched him walk away with some amusement. Who knew he could submit himself so completely to someone else's needs? She supposed it was in his character--he was a very giving person when he wanted to be--but she'd just never seen it displayed so overtly before.  
  
When he returned he flopped back down on the opposite end of the couch and studied her face. She gave him a tired smile she hoped would convey that she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. He smiled back, one of those genuine ones that he rarely pulled out anymore. "Anything else I can get Sleeping Beauty before she returns to her eternal slumber?"  
  
"A handsome prince would be nice, but I suppose I'll have to deal with you," she ribbed lightly. He put on his best mock hurt look, but it didn't hold for very long. "Seriously, thanks for checking up on me, El."  
  
"That's what partners are there for. I just feel guilty for getting a whole afternoon off out of it. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do for you?"  
  
"You could be my pillow if you really wanted to," she shrugged. He surprised her by nodding back.  
  
"I could do that. I could use the nap too." He kicked his shoes off and propped his feet on the coffee table as he reached over and grabbed her actual pillow. Fluffing it slightly he placed in his lap and gestured for her to lay down. What the hell? It looked downright comfy.  
  
She moved slowly to rearrange herself so she was oriented the other way and facing forward. His arm glided down over the covers and practically cuddled her closer. Where had this side of Elliot come from? Wherever it had been hiding she'd definitely enjoy it while it was around.   
  
Her last thought before her eyes slid contentedly shut was that maybe she could even wrangle dinner out of this too.  
  
[end] 


End file.
